


Ampere Capacity

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Beta’d and transmasc approved, Bottom RK900, Canon Compliant, Come Eating, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neckport Fingering, Orgasm, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Top Gavin Reed, Trans Gavin Reed, Trans Male Character, USB Blasting, Vaginal Fingering, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Gavin will never admit he has a thing for RK900. He can barely keep his eyes off the android, though he may say otherwise.So, when a malicious software installment infects RK's system and there is no one there to rescue him but Gavin himself, it seems like a perfect opportunity to sort some "feelings" out.





	Ampere Capacity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by pseudoanalytic's [ART](https://twitter.com/pseudoanalytics/status/1082535247059726336), because I still don't have impulse control.  
>  **Gavin is transmasculine in this fic, and these terms are used to describe genitalia: _sex, dick, mound, folds, front hole, entrance, passage_**  
>  Happy early Valentine's Day!

Gavin would never have imagined having the hots for something- _someone_ \- like RK900.

Never would he have thought CyberLife would create something just short of his ideal preferences. It was like they looked through his personal porn bookmarks or his online dating profile, chose and implemented the best features into RK900’s model to make him more appealing, more attractive; more palatable than his predecessor, whom of which Gavin still has a hard time taking his eyes off of.

It was never Gavin’s intent to fall so infatuated with this new detective android; the one who refuses to answer to anything but his serial code, or the first two letters of his model number.

RK is everything Gavin is not: tall and leanly built with large, deft hands that wield long, slender fingers that look good enough to suck. His eyes are the iciest shade of blue bordering grey. His face, though very similar to Connor’s is anything but dopey like the RK800 android. Instead, RK is sharp and ferocious. His brows are heavy set, yet not poignant. Not a hair is out of place on his head; his appearance in-tune with that immaculately _ridiculous_ , high-collared uniform. His adequately sized lips are almost always pressed closed into a line when he is not talking. Apparently, though, it seems that Cyberlife did not revoke the substance-to-mouth analyzer, as the android still would prefer to lick shit off the ground than to send it to a lab for examination.

Hell, did RK not have analyzers in his fingertips like Connor? Then again, Connor also prefers to stick things in his mouth. Gavin does not know enough about the RK- android line to make assumptions, let alone educated guesses.

Still, the man is less than ready when he finds his heart pumping twice its normal rate when RK900 leans in too close, the android’s face so near to his as he points out Gavin’s elevated vitals.

“You seem bothered, detective,” RK says in his equal, cool tone of voice. He always sounds like this, so professional when Gavin does not. “Is something the matter?”

It rouses a curl, a sticky vine of some sort, within Gavin’s chest that flusters and angers the man equally. He pushes it down as soon as it comes up to tickle at his thoracic cavity, the source growing steadily in the pit of his gut.

“I’m fine, dipshit.” That is not exactly what he planned to have his sentence delivered as, but it will have to do. “Why don’t you fuck off for a few minutes so I can have some goddamn _space_?”

To emphasize, he scoots back the chair he is sitting in away from his desk. He represses a sigh that threatens to spill from his mouth when RK’s face is no longer in direct vicinity of his.

Unfortunately, the android blinks at him, unwavered and more confused than anything else by Gavin’s hasty words.

“Detective, there is nothing to, as you put, ‘fuck off’ with at the moment,” RK900 reasons. “I was asking if you’d like me to get you a cup of coffee before your pulse spiked.”

“Shh!” Gavin swears his robot partner talks too loud. The whole bullpen can probably hear RK’s end of the conversation, though Gavin himself is equally as obnoxious. “I don’t want no coffee, RK. So thanks for asking, but-”

“‘Any’,” RK suddenly interjects.

“What?”

“You said, ‘I don’t want _no_ coffee’ when it should be ‘I don’t want _any_ coffee’.” RK schools Gavin on his colloquial grammar.

Gavin does not fight himself from catching oculogyric crisis; he rolls his eyes at the android.

“Okay, fine, ‘any’ coffee. Whatever. My point still stands: if you’ve got nothing better to do, then why don’t you try helping, I don’t know, Connor or something. He’s technically your brother, right? So go show him some of your brotherly love, however you tin cans do it.”

“Technically speaking, detective,” RK does not stall in his response, seemingly always prepared for every instance. “Connor and I are _not_ brothers. Therefore, I cannot express brotherly love. However, if you would rather I assist RK800 with his tasks around the precinct, I would be happy to do so.”

Gavin frowns. Good riddance then, he thinks. RK will finally stop giving him attention every second of the day, when they are not out in the field investigating a crime scene. He has at least a billion reports to finish up, and RK’s light eyes on him will not help the detective get them done any sooner.

Out of nowhere, before RK can take his first step towards Connor and Hank’s desk, Gavin asks, “But does it really make you happy?”

RK turns to him, blinking softly in a struggle of computation. “What do you mean, detective?”

“I mean,” Gavin shifts in his chair, stretching and groaning when his spine pops audibly from the pressure of a new sitting position. “Does it really make you _Jolly the Big Green Giant_ joyful to help your brother around the station?”

RK seems to contemplate Gavin’s words, silent for a few seconds. The LED ring on his right temple flashes yellow before going back to its homeostasis of blue. “I suppose it does, detective. I believe, after Connor was so kind to wake me into deviancy, I am able to feel a myriad of emotions.”

“Huh.” So the android could _feel_. The fact does not comfort Gavin at all; the curl in his gut expanding and growing in mass.

RK flashes him what looks to be a hint of a smirk before he leaves Gavin alone to do his work.

Fucking deviants, Gavin brews silently as he buries himself in paperwork.

* * *

“Hey, Ken Doll, everyone’s leaving. Aren’t you supposed to be going back to your charging pod?”

Gavin is one of the last people on his shift to finish up, yet RK900 is still at Connor’s desk, stuck in that little cyberbrain of his. His LED cycles back and forth between red and blue, his body completely unmoving in his seat. Gavin huffs a little. Did the damn android break while trying to process Hank’s odd cases?

Must be a fluke, he grouses to himself. The detective gathers his things, slinging his bag over a shoulder before trudging over to RK. The android is stock-still.

“Okay, RK. This ain’t funny. Your brother and his man toy are gone for the day.” No response. “If it eases your mind, I’ll stop calling you everything but RK. How’s that?” he compromises, or at least he thinks he does.

RK stays stone tight, though, the little nightlight of an LED still flitting cyan and carmine. His eyes are completely unfocused, staring off into the void of the precinct. His arms lie in his lap, not even a twitch in his fingertips, a trait that Gavin has noticed from Connor and his brother when they are active and responsive.

“RK, buddy,” he tries again, this time his brows furrowing. Is RK intentionally ignoring him? Does the android just despise him that much? “It’s time to go now, RK. You don’t need to work when I’m not on the clock. Fowler said so himself, when you first got here.”

He leaves out the fact that their boss had not said it in that manner, only that RK should work solely with Gavin, as to not put himself in immediate danger or create complications with other detectives.

Still, no answer from RK.

Gavin frowns. “RK, this isn’t funny,” he says, clapping a firm hand over the android’s shoulder. He is fed up at this point, ready to go home; not in the mood for little games like this.

Then, like a kindled spark that starts a flame, RK springs to life, LED spiking red, red, _rich, bright red_.

Every synthetic muscle bunches in his body, under the stiff clothing he chooses to wear, relaxing suddenly until he is slumping, falling to the side closest to Gavin. He makes a noise akin to gears squealing against each other, mouth lax to show a sliver of those pearlescent, cerinate porcelain teeth. His eyes seem to roll into the back of their sockets, eyelids fluttering rapidly like butterflies.

“Whoa, RK,” ejects Gavin, hands flying out to catch the android and keep him upright.

Never has Gavin seen a robot do such a thing like this. It is frightening, and Gavin can feel his breath hitch as he holds RK half in his arms. He wraps one around the front of RK’s torso. The angle they are in is awkward and too crowded for Gavin to do anything else. It is only then that the man can feel something _wet_ and all too fluid slick his hands, seeping through the fabric of RK’s white jacket. He looks down, nostrils flaring when his vision is filled with deep cobalt. Fresh thirium is leaking out of RK900.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Oh, god, RK. What the hell happened?”

He does not know if android anatomy is the same as humans’, but Gavin’s body is pumping so much adrenaline that he does not care. Wheeling the ergonomic chair around so RK can face him, Gavin hoists him up, slowly and carefully laying him down on the floor thereafter. He does not have enough hands to stabilize RK’s spine, but that is not his primary concern at the moment. RK is bleeding out, his his chest starting to become soaked in his blue blood.

“Can you hear me, RK?”

Gavin rips open the android’s jacket and turtleneck shirt, uncaring of how rough he is being. This is an emergency, and there is absolutely no one to witness this but the station’s cameras and police-grade androids who have not yet deviated, do not want to, and possess no protocol to save one of their own.

Sudden rage and worry rips through Gavin when he realizes this. His goddamn android partner is fucking _dying_ and no one but he is doing _anything_ to stop it.

“G-Gavin.” The detective’s name bubbles out from RK’s pale lips, his projected skin starting to retract in thin, neon blue lines, revealing alabaster white chassis.

“RK, what’s going on?” Gavin’s eyes are wild as he presses his hand over the edges of a bleeding circle on RK’s torso; slightly lower than where a human’s heart should be. He does not have an occlusive dressing on him, but hopes that the pressure he applies will slow some of the bleeding.

RK struggles to focus on Gavin, looking him in the eyes with his own glacier ones, the expression in them drowsy from the thirium loss.

“There w-was a potentially dangerous software insta-a-allment Connor was looking into,” RK explains, his voice cutting out in certain places, lagging in others. “... Looked into it, without his per-permission.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Gavin swears. “There’s a reason why some files need to be locked up from you two,” he gripes, but now is not the time to be bitter about things. “What… how can I make this,” He motions at the bleeding with his free hand. “Stop enough so we can fix you, or you can do your freaky little self-debugging magic?”

“Running dia-a-agnostics is not magic, Gav-vin,” retorts RK.

Gavin cannot believe the android is still capable of snark right now.

“Alright, fine. Just tell me what to do. I can’t just sit here and watch you shut down.” he says.

RK’s eyes widen for a second, pupils dilating before his normal, neutral expression overcomes his face. Gavin shakes it off; must just be a glitch in RK900’s system due to the virus that came with the hazardous bioware… thing. Gavin is no computer expert, though his family used to think otherwise when he and his brothers were going through school. Gavin does not stand a chance against actual computer nerds; no one compares to maniacal, once a boy-genius Elijah Kamski, who created the existence of androids the world knows today.

“Take me somewhere private, detective,” RK says with scary confidence. “I do… I don’t want to dirty anywhere else with my-my my-”

“With your blood,” finishes Gavin, unable to stand the way RK is starting to stall and repeat himself. “Got it. Can you stand? Or just, I dunno, hold onto me as I carry you?”

To Gavin’s relief, RK900 nods once, making it clear that his cervical spine is intact and uninjured, or however android mechanics work.

Gavin leans RK into upright position then, supporting the android’s back with one arm. He slides the other under RK’s legs, keeping his heels flat on the ground as he uses the strength in his legs to hoist the RK900 model up.

“Oh,” he blurts when RK lifts easily into his arms.

He would have thought androids weighed more than this. Perhaps it is all the reps that Gavin has been doing at the gym after work, or maybe it is because the RK- models are just a lot lighter in weight than others.

“Detective?”

Gavin looks down at RK and, boy, is that a mistake. RK looks positively helpless, collected in Gavin’s arms like this is some damsel-in-distress rescue mission. His gaze is hazy, unfocused, probably from the sudden thirium loss. His cheeks are flushing with an almost periwinkle hue; most likely to channel the blue blood away from the injury site. The detective looks away, scurrying to one of the private bathrooms in the precinct.

As soon as he kicks open the restroom door, the man is setting RK onto the freshly cleaned, tiled floor. The door behind them shuts quietly.

“Fuck,” Gavin notices that the thirium is beginning to spill faster from RK’s chest, dripping and polluting the fabric of the android’s trousers with its cobalt tinge. “RK, you gotta help me out so I can save you, man,” he says.

If RK shuts down, what are the odds to start him back up? What if the malicious software is strong enough where the damage is irreversible? What will Gavin do if RK shuts down eternally; he knows, since the android revolution succeeded, there will be no more RK900 androids with the same conscious and mind to replace the RK he knows. Each thought shakes Gavin to the core, heightens his fear of the worst outcome, and leaves him more concerned than he would ever have thought to be at the beginning, when RK was introduced to him as his partner.

“Neck… behind,” RK croaks.

Gavin snaps out of thought. “What?”

“In the neck, th-there’s a port,” explains the android. “A glitch; I can’t open it from behind.”

Thankfully, Gavin is quick to move. “I’m gonna, uh,” He is already doing it, repositioning RK900 as he talks. “Lean you against the wall the other way, okay?” He turns RK around carefully, letting the android rest his forehead against the sterile, painted wall. “And don’t nod. Just give me a yes or no,” he adds.

“Yes, detective,” RK murmurs so low that the words stroke the tendril that once bloomed in Gavin’s belly, stoking its smolder of embers.

Gavin shakes his head. He should not be affected like this, not when RK is in dire need of medical attention, or the android equivalent to it. He pulls down that absurd turtleneck collar. He squints at the the nape of RK’s neck then, only faintly making out where the port is located. It looks like a small, rectangle-shaped hatch, much like the one on Gavin’s flat, portable flashlight at home.

“Do you think you could,” he trails off, not knowing what to say exactly. It is hard to figure out where the release is when RK’s artificial skin is in the way. “Your skin… the neckport… um,”

To Gavin’s luck, RK is graceful and intelligent enough to piece his words together. With no more than a simulated breath from the android, RK900’s fair skin begins to melt away, the edges of it running away in electric blue lines like foam on a reverse tidal wave. Soon, all that is left in the android’s neck area is the white marble color of RK’s endoskeleton.

Gavin leans closer, fingers coming in contact with RK’s neck. He takes the chance to trace the grooves of the biocomponent and its structure, only stopping when RK shudders visibly. He pauses, heart pounding hard once again, the overwhelming urge to press his lips on that expanse of “spine”.

But he keeps himself in control, as difficult as it may be, instead attempting to jimmy the port open with his pinky nail, but to no avail. He licks his lips, trying again with more force. This time, though, he pulls back with a pained yelp, drawing his hand away. His nail bed throbs as he inspects it, grimacing when he finds his nail has chipped, the injury ripping towards the left edge.

“Ar-re you alright, detective?” RK struggles to ask.

Gavin hisses, reaching for his back pocket. He will need something stronger, something thinner than his own keratin. “I’m fine. Hold still, I’m gonna pry this sucker open.”

“My neckport is not a s-sucker,” RK says, eliciting a smile and a puffed grunt from Gavin. He shifts, folding his legs over each other in order to balance better.

“I said, hold still, dumbass,” Gavin quips, locating the beer bottle opener on his set of keys. “I don’t wanna fuck you up more than that virus has.”

RK corrects, “It’s a software program.”

“Program or not,” Gavin lines the bottle opener to the groove of RK’s port. He finishes his thought, “It’s still a virus if it’s trying to kill you.”

There, he said the “K” word. It does not feel any more appropriate when it exits his mouth, but he busies himself with getting the neckport open. The lip of it slips effortlessly between the hatch and the rest of RK’s neck. Then, Gavin wiggles it up and down, slowly pushing it further, until…

_Pop!_

The neckport hatch loosens dramatically, enough to slide open with Gavin’s uninjured fingers, to which he does with a relieved sigh.

“Now what?” Though they now have RK’s port open, there are no labels on anything.

But looking into RK’s body is completely fascinating. Where there is supposed to be spinal cord is actually a series of intertwined cables, sapphire in color as an equally rich light of blue pulses like a heartbeat. Gavin is pretty sure it _is_ resemblance of RK900’s heartbeat. After all, androids were modeled in the image of humans themselves.

Gavin does not realize he has dropped his keys to the tiled floor, index and middle finger reaching to touch the first two cords that wrap around each other like a helix within RK’s neck.

“Ga- _ah_ -vin,” RK’s vocals fill the air with static, drawing Gavin back from his trance-like state.

Gavin flushes hot in his cheeks. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

He reprimands himself internally for giving into his strange desires; reprimands himself for feeling arousal crawl through his capillaries and feed his cells the drug of desire. What the hell is wrong with him, suddenly touching things that might be as critical as a nerve within RK900’s neck? Gavin does not understand; he has never been so interested in androids before then, poked fun at them and joked at their expense. RK is such an exception, not only because he looks like something that came out of Gavin’s wet dreams.

“It-it’s okay, Gavin,” RK is quick to forgive tiny slip-ups like this, but he sounds more out of breath, though he does not have the need to breathe. “Do you see the thick cable to the right? Be-be-behind the first two main wires in the forefront?”

“Is it coated in a purplish blue?” Gavin asks, wishing that he had his glasses with him. Goddamn him for having such pitiful eyesight and the inability to wear contact lenses.

He does not yet poke around in RK, fearful that he will accidentally dislodge something and shut the android down within seconds of his mistake.

“Yes, the protective plastic insulation on the particular wire is an indigo hue,” confirms RK. “I need you to pull on it until it pops free of its USB.”

“You want me to disconnect something in you?” Gavin guffaws. He does not know if he can do this. His hands are already shaking. “RK, do you know how fucking _dangerous_ that is?”

“Do you know how dangerously close to shutdown I am?” retaliates RK, and it is something Gavin was not expecting to hear.

The man puts his hands on RK’s shoulders to steady the android, but mainly to keep himself from freaking out. “Okay, okay,” he says. “I’ll do it. Just, like, pull it out of there? Where the fuck am I supposed to put it after?”

“Dis-s-lodge it _gently_ ,” RK corrects. “You can keep it out, hanging-ing from the entrance of my port.”

“Sure.” If only Gavin can get the rest of his brain and body to sound as level headed as his voice right now.

“Gavin?”

“Yeah?” Gavin asks.

RK sounds so desperate when he says, “Hurry.”

Oh, fuck me, Gavin groans internally. “I know,” he gripes as his ever-defensive forefront.

It is almost too slow, the way the man brings his fingers to RK900’s port opening again. He is not sure how to poise his fingers, as to not jostle any other wires from their plug-in anchors. With a breath in, Gavin pushes forth into RK’s neckport.

“How is it?” Gavin hears himself saying.

RK makes a humming noise, much like one that a computer tower might do, “It’s… strange.”

“Just strange?” Gavin teases as he allows his fingers to sink further. He is so close to the indigo wire now, but it is hard to know when the rest of his hand is blocking his view into RK’s neck.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” RK says. “It’s like you’re _in_ me, which you are, but not just that. It’s like you’re touching me, the core of me. I f-feel like I could-”

“Fuck,” Gavin sibilates when his hand accidentally bumps the main helix of cables.

His fingers curl around the purple wire, but slip from the wetness that something inside RK begins to secrete. He struggles to keep onto it, but the slickness of thirium- or, at least he _thinks_ it is thirium- makes it too wet to grasp.

But that is not the worst part; the _sound_ that tumbles out from RK900’s lips is absolutely debauched. Perhaps it is just Gavin’s fright and lust addled brain; he must be interpreting a moan of pain for one of pleasure. Instantly, he can feel himself reacting to RK, warmth radiating full force in in the carriage of his stomach and trickling down into Gavin’s crotch.

“Ohh,” RK mewls, the tone so sensual that Gavin quivers in his shoes.

“Do you feel anything?”

Carefully, the detective moves his fingers. It is so soft and smooth inside; Gavin goes blank as he thumbs over a coiled cable on the left. He strokes it softly, feeling how the heat of RK900’s core emanates from the mass of wires his hand is shoved into. He does not know exactly what he is searching for, but he is not thinking clearly; barely thinking at all.

A convulsion similar to a minor earthquake trembles through RK’s body when Gavin palpates more purposefully, tracing up and down his circuitry. The man does it again and, this time, RK emits another groan, coated with sweetness as sugary as high fructose syrup. It is artificial, but so is RK900 himself, and it does not make it any less real; he is an android, of all sentient beings. He tilts his head forward some more, as if baring his nape to Gavin, letting his chin rest along his clavicle. Another moan rips from his vocal speakers and, though the detective cannot see RK’s face, he is certain that those plush, synthetic lips are fixed in an “O” of pleasure.

“It’s- I’m,” RK struggles.

“Do you feel good?”

Slowly but surely, RK gives an affirmative, “Yes, I suppo-suppose I feel good.” He tries again, “I f-feel good.”

Fuck pride, Gavin decides; does not care when the last of his resolve crumbles to dust.

He is throbbing between his thighs, and reaches down into his pants, but not before he licks the pads of his fingertips, wetting them perfunctorily. The hand dives under his sweat-wicking boxers, the tip of his middle finger finally, _finally_ pressing over the length of his sex to relieve some of the tension there.

And, oh, he is absolutely _dripping_ , more than he has been in years.

“Gavin?” RK asks, confusion clearly conveyed within the man’s said name.

“Shut up, RK, oh,” Let him have this, Gavin thinks.

He is unable to control himself now as he adds another digit, his middle on one side of his wet dick, with his pointer on the other. Deftly, he fondles himself, feeling as his folds grow softer, puffier and slicker with each stroke. His front hole aches for action, something that Gavin cannot resist.

Those two soaking fingers line up against his hole, so much like when Gavin first prepared to enter RK. Then, he is thrusting deep, forcing his fingers within himself as well as inside RK.

They both wail at the intrusion.

It is exquisite, feeling like this, and fingering someone while fingering himself. The detective wiggles his fingers, wading through RK’s circuits. They burn hotter while Gavin’s own organic walls clench down, internal heat searing his fingertips.

He starts a rhythm, sloppy and fast, bringing out guttural rasps and whines from he and RK. Ego swells when the android’s voice glitches, especially when Gavin thrusts in at just the right degree. He curls his phalanges, drawing out a scream from his vocal cords.

“Fuck, fuck,” Gavin groans, sweat beading along the front of his forehead.

It is so much, yet not enough. He needs more, but this will have to do, with his hands preoccupied. The man cannot stop himself from burying his nose into RK’s half-clothed shoulder, the ruined jacket and ripped turtleneck slipping off the android like loose leaves of cabbage. He breathes the lack of scent in, knowing that androids do not perspire, but it does not stop his primal urges from trying to smell it with gulps of greedy breath.

Gavin’s palms are beginning to sweat, but he does not stop. He backs his fingers out again before thrusting them further; trying to latch onto that indigo wire.

“Gavin, please,” RK begs. How utterly _good_ that sounds.

Gavin is close and, by the looks of it, RK is the same. Pleasure eats away at his soul, rapture coming ever nearer. He almost forgets why the fuck he is here in the first place, ass on the hard, cold floor of their workplace bathroom.

“Gavin, my-y-y system is going to…” He does not finish, for fear that he might actually stop working. He reiterates, “Please.”

Panic arises, but it mixes, coludes so much with the lust scorching in Gavin’s bloodstream that he just keens, canting his hips as much as he can, rutting his mound against his palm. His underwear is as sopping wet as his entrance, so turned on. He quickens the pace, all the while close to reaching the wire that RK so desperately needs to be unplugged.

But, Christ, it is so wet. Gavin cannot get a good grip on RK’s wires.

Craning his jaw, he brings his mouth to the android’s exposed cervical spine, and licks.

RK900 caterwauls so noisily that Gavin’s eardrums constrict in order to protect his sensitive auricle.

He does not let up, the rich thirium tinging his pale mouth the prettiest shade of bright navy. Gavin pretends he looks like the closest image to a vampire who feeds on androids, not humans; sucking on the thick ropes of RK’s main cables. The thirium does not taste bad, per say. In fact, it is quite the opposite: less battery fluid and more viscous, the taste sour yet addictive like dill pickle juice directly from the jar.

In the back of his mind, Gavin wonders how much of this stuff would take for him to feel sick, but it is not the primary concern here. RK is much more valuable than his own health; his sought-out wire pulling and play.

RK is shaking to the very conductors, snugly encased in phosphor layers. He trembles like a leaf as Gavin laps at his neck. Gavin can feel him quaking, buzzing from what must be internal cooling fans within his abdominal cavern. His fingers inch closer to their destination, hidden within RK’s circuitry, working over each strand they come across. They dig deeper, farther into the android, brushing past every plastic-coated wire and cable to the tune of the fingers pounding Gavin’s front hole.

“Almost. Got it.” The man grins triumphantly when he has his thumb and pointer finger around the electrical wire.

“Then pull!” says RK, voice as shaky as Gavin feels.

They are so wound up, enough to snap. Gavin and RK cannot take much more.

“Now, Gavin!” The RK900 android all but ululates, “Now!”

So, pull he does. Gavin yanks as firmly as he can, feeling the resistance from the wire. Then, with an alarming pop, the line comes free from its anchor, falling limp just as its owner does.

“Gavin!” RK shrieks, his voice half corroded with static.

Gavin has always been a good spotter, allowing RK to flop back against the detective’s chest with another unadulterated cry. His breath hitches when their bodies come into contact with each other. His fingers are still lodged deep within RK’s neckport, his elbow angled high to accommodate their new position.

The fluorescent bathroom lights flicker, every hair on Gavin’s arms standing straight up, as if someone has taken a charged balloon and held it above his skin. His fingertips tingle inside of RK, the wires and cables bunching and contracting like actual muscle. It clenches around Gavin’s digits, spasming around him in a mock-orgasm, as if sucking at his fingers and milking them for all the feel-good they are worth. 

Gavin’s pants feel so uncomfortable now, starting to dampen as his brain plays RK shouting his name over and over again. He should not be feeling this, should not be feeling the way he does, but the dopamine floods his system; he cannot stop, even if he wants to.

Yanking out the hand thrusting fingers into his own passage, Gavin rubs vigorously at his dick, feeling the ecstasy in his veins return back to his heart, inferiorly and superiorly. Rapture is coming to get him; the barrel of pleasure overflowing, about to burst open.

The wave of orgasmic passion descends upon Gavin without a forewarning, smashing his spirit against the occipital bone of his skull. All he sees is white as he comes, lungs seized and hearing muffled. He can feel his mouth open, a growl or yowl or _something_ flying out into the air to signal the immense pleasure that rocks his entire being. His head is so far in the clouds, slowly floating back to a coherent state of conscious, all the while feeling like he has been projected out to space, gazing at nothing until his vision returns.

When he draws his first, post-orgasm breath, it stings his bronchioles enough to keep the sleepy afterglow away. He takes his hand out of his boxers, barely registering how much a mess he has made on it.

“Did it work?” the detective manages to croak.

It takes a few seconds for the android to reply, perhaps because RK is recalibrating his system, “Yes, the wire was disconnected successfully.” He continues, “The central bleeding has stopped. You can pull out of me now, Gavin.”

“‘Pull out of me’, what the fuck,” Gavin grouses.

The way RK words his sentences do not help him any, instead fueling his arousal. His poor, abused dick twitches again in interest, but he does not entertain it further. He exits RK’s neckport, cautious not to jostle any more wires as he places the indigo one on the edge of it. Though the thirium will evaporate in a couple hours time, Gavin is not sure he wants to wipe it on his pants and wear the stain around. He sticks his hand to his mouth, cleaning off the remaining thirium with his tongue and teeth.

“Thank you, detective.” RK has gone back to calling Gavin by his title. His neckport slides halfway shut, and the synthetic skin crawls back somewhat to protect RK’s endoskeleton from outside elements. He turns around to face the man. “It seems like the bleeding problem is under control, and I was successful in containing the malware.”

“That’s… good,” Gavin says, mind still a little fucked from coming so hard.

He still has the hand he dirtied with his own juices up, away from any of his or RK’s clothing as not to dirty them. Unlike RK’s blue blood, his slick will _not_ dissipate into nothing. Gavin is about to stand and reach for some toilet paper when RK grabs his wrist.

The android brings Gavin’s sopping hand to his pretty lips, slurping at each finger. His tongue twirls around the man’s fingerprints, probably analyzing, before releasing the phalanges with an obscene squelch.

Gavin does not think he will ever be able to scrub the sight he has just witnessed from his brain. Instead, he sighs woefully, unwilling to squirm as his body asks for seconds.

“You’re going to be the death of me, RK,” he bemoans.

RK, ever the realist, counters, “That is an over-exaggeration, detective.”

“Are you in there, RK? Detective Reed?”

The two detectives face the door, surprised to hear none other than Connor’s concerned voice. Since when had Connor come back to the precinct? Gavin saw the android leave with Hank earlier in the day.

“We’re in here,” RK answers. “Come in.”

Gavin blinks, confused. Had Connor known all along? How long had he been standing on the other side of the door? Or did he just get here?

As if reading the man’s mind, RK says to Gavin, “I called Connor as soon as I was infected, for a lack of better terms. He can help me restore my processor and clear my cache.”

“Oh,” is all Gavin can utter.

Connor comes to collect his successor.

He spares them both a glance, feathery eyebrows raising in what can only be described as amusement.

“You did not tell me detective Reed was into such a thing,” he states simply whilst helping RK900 up to his feet. Gavin stands along with them.

“I did not know the detective would react this way,” RK says matter-of-factly.

Connor hums, so much like a human. “I will assume care for RK, detective Reed. Have a good night.”

“But-” Everything is happening so fast. Gavin can barely piece together what is currently going on.

RK says, “It’s fine, detective. You should go home now. Change out of those pants and get a good night’s rest, if you can.”

“I…”

Connor gives him a pointed look. “The amount of thirium you ingested is not enough to be considered toxic, detective. However, you should go home in the next hour, in case you experience any adverse effects. Emergency medical services are always ready to assist you, if need be.”

“What the fuck,” But Gavin is exhausted, still coming off the endorphins from earlier. Yeah, maybe he does need to go home.

RK will plague his dreams, make him come thrice over, and give him hell for the next months to come.

“Goodnight, detective,” RK winks at him.

“Yeah, whatever. Fucking tin cans,” Gavin cusses, but there is no bite to his words as he gives the android an embarrassed glance.

RK gives the tiniest smile on his and Connor’s way out of the precinct.

**Author's Note:**

> BONUS -  
> RK: Gavin's going to be okay, right? After ingesting all that thirium?  
> Connor: I don't know  
> RK: What do you mean, you don't know?  
> Gavin, at home: *found lying supine, high fever and low blood pressure; going into shock from direct poison ingestion*
> 
> Hey, don't get your wires in a twist just yet! Quip made some amazing [art](https://twitter.com/pseudoanalytics/status/1095919061169553410) for this fic, too.  
> Be sure to leave kudos and a comment if you would lick thirium, too.  
> Find me on twit @ra9ical


End file.
